


My Everything is You

by WhinyWingedWinchester



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Artist Fandral, Dashingfrost - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fandral's a sap, Gift Fic, Implied/Referenced Sexy-Times, Jotun Loki, Lady Loki, M/M, married, morning sweetness, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhinyWingedWinchester/pseuds/WhinyWingedWinchester
Summary: A sweet and lazy morning in bed as Fandral shows his husband (and his wife) just how much he loves them, no matter the skin they’re in.
Relationships: Fandral/Loki (Marvel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 129





	My Everything is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UmbraeCalamitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my beautiful Talky.  
> I love you!

Watching Loki sleep quietly beside him was something Fandral was positive he’d never tire of seeing. The way the sunlight hit the gold of _his_ ring on Loki’s finger and the bonding tattoos on his hand, the lingering bite marks on his shoulder and the fingerprint bruises on his hips from their love making the night before… all things he’d never thought he’d get to have. 

He moved carefully and eased open the middle drawer of his nightstand. He pushed aside the half-finished novel Sif had brought him back from Midgard (something about a thing called a _vampire_ who stalked some whiny little girl) and tugged his sketchbook and pencil free. Sif could keep her camera. He preferred the intimacy of drawing. There was something about letting his pencil follow the shape of his body, the way the shadows created valleys and secret places he loved to take his time exploring. Loki shifted a little and muttered something, but fell still again, and Fandral smiled softly at the sight. He opened his sketchbook to a clean page towards the middle and put his pencil to work. 

The gentle curve of Loki’s hip and the sharp vee it made down into his groin, the long line of his thigh, muscled and defined from years of training and battle. There were the familiar scars and nicks from before Loki had received his Apple from Idunn, and Fandral knew them all by heart now.

“You’re staring.” Fandral let his eyes move from where he’d been tracing the sharp dip of Loki’s hipbones, the length of his thigh, and met the sleepy green eyes fixed on his face. “Pervert.”

Fandral grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Can you blame me? I’ve got the most attractive husband in the realms sleeping naked beside me. Of _course_ I’m going to stare.” 

Loki grumbled something under his breath, stretched his arms above his head and sighed, and Fandral watched utterly mesmerised as hard muscles softened, hips flattened and widened with curves and thighs lost their hard definition and filled out. He could see silky smooth skin all over, the hair spread over the brilliant crimson pillowcase was longer and fuller than before, heavy curls pulling at the ends where it spilled over the side of the bed. He glanced down at the neat and tidy thatch of dark curls framed by those thighs he wanted to bite, and then dragged his eyes back up to breasts that Fandral wanted to rest his head on and worship. He set his sketchbook aside and leaned over to rub his bearded cheek against Loki’s smooth belly.

“Feeling better?” 

“Much,” Loki sighed softly and turned her face to his. Her lips were fuller, the Cupid’s bow more defined like this, and Fandral ducked his head forwards to press his own against them. “My skin felt… tight.” 

Fandral nodded and licked at her navel lightly. Loki always described it as feeling almost _itchy_ and just wrong all over. And the only thing that helped was shifting from _him_ to _her_. And Fandral loved it. Loved that he had both a husband and a wife. Loki wriggled and squirmed underneath his tongue, and Fandral rolled himself over so his arms were pinning her hips down and buried his face into her stomach and blew an obnoxiously loud raspberry there. 

“Child!” Loki snorted as she laughed and wiggled again. Fandral nipped at her hipbone and let his head rest lightly on her flat stomach. His fingers spread out to brush over it gently, and he saw out of the corner of his eye as Loki’s smile became something smaller and softer. “Would you want that?” 

Fandral blinked and looked up at her. “Want… that?” 

Loki nodded at where his hand was still sitting low down on her belly. “A child,” she murmured. 

“Oh.” His hand twitched against his will and Fandral could _see_ it then. See her belly as it swelled and grew, the kicking of a wee babe inside of her. A tiny, dark head at her breast and the smell of milk and _love_. But… “Not yet,” he said softly. “I’m still learning _you_. We’ve got eternity, babe.” 

Loki made a quiet noise and Fandral moved so he was resting on his forearms above her. He traced a fingertip from her hairline down over her nose, across a cheekbone that arched high and elfin-like. Down to rub at the lips he’d never tire of kissing, traced the chin that Thor often joked was sharp enough to be a weapon in its own right. He followed the column of her neck, the lines of her collarbones and over the swell of one breast. 

“Having fun, darling?” 

Fandral grinned up at her and ducked his head down to let his lips latch onto the pink nipple his fingertip had hardened into a little peak, and swirled his tongue around it. Loki whined and he felt her hands clutch at his hair as he pulled his head away. “Something wrong?” The hands in his hair clenched and Loki whined as she tried to push his head down. “Something you want?” 

“Fandral!” 

“That’s me,” he chirped and let one hand drift down to gently nudge her thighs apart. Loki let them fall open and he wriggled until he was comfortable, Loki’s unsubtle shoving at the top of his head guiding him down. 

He took his time taking her apart with fingers and tongue, murmured endearments and praises falling non-stop from his lips. When she was gasping and shaking in his hands, when he was licking his lips clean and rubbing gentle circles on her hip as she floated in that dreamy haze of pleasure, Fandral just watched as she shivered a little in the morning breeze. 

Pale skin was swept away under a wave of blue, pert pink nipples became purple and the flush on her skin was a faintly darker shade of blue. Raised lines and designs, clan markings and his own mating marks that he'd left when they'd mated in the Jotnar style, all his favourite things to trace with fingers. 

And tongue.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently, and dragged his fingers over the clan marking on her ribs. “No matter your skin or your shape, you’re always _you_. And you’re _perfect._ And mine.” 

“Yours,” Loki hummed softly and dreamily. “Always.” 

Fandral waited until she was almost asleep again before he rolled away a little to pull his sketchbook back, and set to work on a new drawing. Soft curves and round shapes, the contour of breast and hip, the little marks he’s just nipped into her thighs. 

And all of it, he thought gratefully, was _his_. 

“For always,” he murmured. 


End file.
